


Reversal

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-08
Updated: 2006-03-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8085856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: T'Pol enters Pon Farr. (07/31/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: 1.08 "Breaking The Ice," 2.14 "Stigma," 2.21 "The Breach," 2.24 "First Flight."  
  
Archer's/Endeavor's Pon Farr Challenge.  
  
I had actually started this story a few months ago then stopped to write "No Way to Treat a Lady." So, it was a funny coincidence that Dee proposed this challenge to write a story about T'Pol and pon farr. Hope you like it.  


* * *

At impulse speed, the Enterprise nosed through the debris field, carefully avoiding the largest pieces. Now and then, a hunk chimed off the hull. Archer stood before the view screen, his hands clasped behind his back while around him the hum of electronics told him the field was being scanned and recorded for examination. Centuries ago, this had once been a planet; now it was just a mass of broken pieces loosely held by its own gravity in a belt around its former moon. Archer thought about Earth and wondered if, in some future time, his  
home planet would end in a catastrophe like this. It made him shiver and he shook the thought off. There was work to do.

"Sub-commander, what are you getting on your scans?" he asked without turning. A moment passed without an answer. Archer swivelled around enough to see T'Pol. She was gazing fixedly at the view screen, not at her monitors. "Sub-commander," he said again, a little more firmly, "do you see anything to show why this planet exploded?"

He was shaken to note what looked suspiciously like moisture in her eyes. Couldn't be, he thought, then wondered, do Vulcans ever cry? She did seem very disturbed by the scene before them, almost as if she was feeling some emotion. That realisation shook him even more. In all her time on the ship, T'Pol had never lost that cool detachment that Archer disliked and distrusted so much in the Vulcans. Efficient and aloof, that was T'Pol. Archer seldom actually  
thought of her as a woman, more like a robot in a woman's form. A very nice form it was too, he added wryly to himself, then hoped fervently that Vulcans could not read minds. 'It would be just like them to have that ability and not tell us,' he grumbled mentally.

Archer tried again to get her attention from the view screen. "T'Pol, is there anything to suggest what happened to that planet?"

Her eyes locked onto his with an unfocussed, faraway look as if she didn't quite see him. "All those creatures," she murmured. "All that life, gone in a flash." T'Pol returned her gaze to the screen. "What was it all for anyway, all that striving for life when it ends like this?"

Archer opened his mouth to speak, but she had rushed past him and off the bridge with a brief, "Excuse me, sir," before he could say anything. He glanced at Malcolm whose own mouth hung open in surprise, then over at Hoshi who simply shrugged and shook her head. T'Pol's strange words and sudden exit had perplexed the others too. He stood a few more minutes contemplating whether to see what was wrong or just leave her alone. Who knew what went on in a Vulcan head? Yet, she seemed distressed and that was very uncharacteristic. Only on a couple of occasions had Archer seen her nearly show an emotion and she had quickly covered it. He decided he'd better see what was wrong; it was his duty in case her performance suffered because of some problem she was having.

'I'm like a father figure on this ship,' he thought in amusement as he started toward the door from the bridge. "You have the bridge, Mr. Reed," Archer said as the doors slid open and he strode toward the turbolift. An "Aye, Sir," followed him as the bridge doors closed with a hiss.

* * *

T'Pol stabbed at the button to open the door to her quarters and stumbled in, collapsing against the wall. Her body was suddenly wracked by sobs. She struggled to find that inner place of calm, to locate the meditative space that she had been taught to find through years of training. To no avail; her emotions held sway. She staggered across the small room and dropped onto her cot. It seemed as if her body was a burdensome weight she could no longer carry. The tears flowed freely and she shook her head trying to clear it. Sagging against her pillows, she curled up, holding herself tightly as if in pain. She was in pain; these unwonted emotions were an anguish. How did humans cope with such awful feelings? As she lay there, a pall of depression settled over her like a heavy blanket. 'What am I doing here anyway, a Vulcan among these humans? Second officer on a human starship. My mother was so disappointed when I told her that I had taken this commission. N'Vara expected so much more of me. She wanted me to continue at the Science Academy, as my mentor wishedâ€”to go into research and eventually, to become a professor of science myself. An illustrious position. But here I am, stuck with these humans who despise me, and the captain who hates all Vulcans because he thinks we have withheld valuable knowledge from them. I should resign this commission and return to Vulcan, to the man to whom I  
have been promised.'

This welter of emotions, this loss of control. What was wrong with her? For the last week, she could not even meditate or rest, afraid of the dark, hot images that swirled in her mind whenever she let down her iron control in sleep. T'Pol sat bolt upright. Her breathe caught in her throat and she forced herself to expel it, slowly. 'No,' she thought, 'not yet. It can't be happening yet.' Deep inside, she knew it was true. And there was nothing she could do about it. Or  
was there? She thought of Dr. Phlox and began to rise when the buzzer on her door sounded. Her shoulders sagged; she knew it would be Archer. Reluctantly, she rose and went to the intercom and pressed the link.

"Yes," she said. With a quick wipe of her sleeve, she removed the moisture from her cheeks.

"It's Captain Archer. May I speak with you for a minute?"

For an answer, T'Pol pressed the button to open the sliding door and the captain stepped in. His brow was creased with worry and he looked fixedly at her. His hesitancy made T'Pol tense. She forced herself to wait until he initiated the conversation, came to say whatever was on his mind. At least his look seemed kind and concerned; that made her relax a little.

"T'Pol, you've been acting a little less like yourself lately. Just a few incidents over the last few weeks, but I've begun to wonder if there's something wrong. I'm not just asking as your captain, but also, I hope, as a friend." He reached out to her cheek where a stray tear lay near the corner of her eye. "You've been crying. That, I think, is very unusual for a Vulcan."

She batted his hand away and moved back quickly. Sudden rage made her stiffen, ready to strike; it was only through an effort of will that she held back. Her strength was probably double his. "Don't ever touch me again," she hissed. "I could lodge a complaint against you for misconduct."

Archer's face tightened and his eyes became glacial. "You know as well as I do that touch wasn't meant that way. I don't think of you like that."

An irrational fury took hold of her; she struggled to hold her tongue but the words spilled out in a torrent. "Why don't you think of me that way? Are Vulcan women so repulsive? Do you hate us all so much?" As soon as she said them, she wished she could call them back. She didn't mean any of it. Where had these thoughts come from? She watcher Archer's face change from anger to complete astonishment. He seemed unable to speak though his mouth opened slightly and he  
stepped back a pace.

T'Pol swallowed hard. Never had she felt so humiliated, another emotion that she had never experienced before. "I apologize, Captain, for my words. It was quite unprofessional of me and I accept that you may decide to report it to the High Command. If you wish, I will leave the ship as soon as possible."

Archer shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm not reporting anything to anyone, T'Pol. It was just a minor slip, nothing more. We'll just forget it. But I'm worried about you. I want you to report to Dr. Phlox for a complete examination. If you won't talk to me, at least you can talk to him. Maybe there's something wrong and he could help."

"Yes, sir," she murmured. She hoped he would just leave. Her hold on her emotions was tenuous and she felt more tears prickling behind her eyes from his kindness. A Vulcan captain would not have been so forgiving. She would have been reported and likely, demoted or dismissed from her post. Infractions of protocol were not taken lightly by Vulcans; their society was based on rigid formalities. She forced herself to speak, hoping to convey that there was nothing wrong. "If you will excuse me now, I feel the need for some rest."

He took her cue and turned toward the door, hesitating for a second as he looked at her. "I am ordering you to see the doctor, T'Pol. I'll know if you disobeyed my order." With that, he exited.

T'Pol swiped at the tears that once again began to fall and went into the bathroom cubicle. She dashed some water in her face, catching sight of herself in the mirror. It always surprised her to see her image. There were no mirrors of Vulcan; vanity was thought to be an emotion to be quelled like all others. She had no idea if her features were considered attractive or not, and until this minute, it had not occurred to her to care. She dressed in a plain uniform, wore nothing to enhance her physical appearance as the human women did. Yet, studying her face, she decided that her looks could measure up with any other woman's on the ship. Except for the ears. T'Pol smiled at her reflection. Those ears were beautiful, she thought. They set her apart, a mark of superiority.

She grit her jaw suddenly. Superiority? Another emotional sentiment that was unworthy of her. 'Do I really think I'm superior to these humans,' she asked herself, asked her image. 'Is it because of our advanced technology, or that fact that we have subdued our emotions that I think so? '

A keen, watchful face looked back at her, and in that dark visage there lurked the savage race from which she had sprung. The mirror image resolved into darkness and flames; an exaltation filled her as she saw in herself the wild, primitive Vulcan, revelling in its wanton killings and barbarous matings. This was the true Vulcan that had been hiding under a veneer of civilisation, that had been sublimated but not subdued. And it hungered to be let loose. Like a  
beast, she could feel it beating at its confines, struggling to get free. Terror of losing control warred with the hot desire to let it burst its bounds and take her over completely.

T'Pol shuddered and gasped as if she could not get enough air. Her quarters were too hot; she was burning up inside. 'I need help,' she thought as she hung onto the railing in her bath cubicle. 'I will be lost if I don't get some help.' Again she thought of Dr. Phlox.

She splashed some cold water over her face and hands. The cooling fluid helped to clarify her mind a little and she went out immediately to the turbo-lift, punching the button for the medical section.

* * *

Phlox looked up from feeding one of his plants as the door to the medical section hissed open. He was surprised to see T'Pol there so soon. Captain Archer had told him to expect her, but the doctor assumed she would try to resist or delay. She heartily disliked the intrusiveness of medical tests. Yet, here she was, and to use a human phrase, 'she looked like hell.' Her Pa'Nar Syndrome was in remission; all her latest check-ups had confirmed she was in perfect health.  
Phlox was puzzled by the wild, almost fearful look in her eyes. She was clearly frightened, but by what?

He pulled his face into his usual affable expression, and said, "Sub-commander, I was told you would be coming to see me. What can I do for you?"

Ramrod straight, she came in and wandered around as if searching for something or someone. "We are alone, Dr. Phlox?" she asked finally, turning to stare at him. There was a strange look in her eyes that unnerved him, an almost predatory look.

"If you don't count my living specimens, we are alone," he quipped, adding his most jovial smile to his expression. She merely continued to stare as if studying him like one of his specimens. It was really quite disturbing to be watched that way. "If you will excuse my saying so, Sub-commander, you look like you could use a good night's sleep. Have you been experiencing insomnia?"

Her voice was low, breathy as she replied, "I have hardly slept in days. When I sleep, terrible nightmares invade my dreams." She seemed to be holding herself tensely like a coiled spring. "I need your help, Dr. Phlox. There is no one else I can turn to."

Her words made him uneasy. Phlox turned to pick up his scanner, then waved toward the empty bio-bed. "If you will lay down, Sub-commander, I'll take a look at you, see what's wrong."

As he moved the scanner toward her, she brushed it away with a rough swat and it clattered across the floor. Hoarsely, she said, "I don't need to be scanned to know what's wrong with me. It's pon farr! Do you know what that is?"

Phlox drew in a sharp breath and expelled, "Oh dear." He compressed his lips as he looked at her more closely. No wonder she seemed tense. "Yes, Sub-commander, I am familiar with the seven year mating cycle of Vulcans." His brows drew down and he felt her fear communicating itself to him. She was on the verge of losing that precious control over her emotions and psyche, of losing all semblance of dignity in a wild urge to mate. He felt sorry for her; her eyes were dark and frightened. She seemed to be hanging on by a thread and he would have to be very careful not to do anything that would unleash those primitive emotions. He had heard of people being killed by Vulcans during pon farr, sort of collateral damage for getting in the way.

Keeping his expression neutral and his voice as gentle as possible, he asked, "What can I do to help you?"

She paced the room like an animal in a cage, then stopped in front of him. "You can give me something to stop it. There must be something, a sedative, a hormone. Something." The notes of her voice implored him, tore into his soft heart.

Knowing he must be careful not to upset her, he replied, "Sub-commander, though I know about pon farr, I have no knowledge of anything that prevents it. I have a strong feeling that there is nothing in the Vulcan medical database to terminate pon farr. The Vulcan race is quite numerous but one mating every seven years does not produce many offspring. It is similar to your ritual of bonding  
at an early ageâ€”a way to ensure the purity of the race and its continuation." He almost reached out to touch her reassuringly but then held back and smiled instead. "I will look into it for you and let you know what I find."

With a snarl, she grabbed his lab coat and threw him against the wall. "I don't have time, Doctor! I need something now!" She let him go and turned toward the lab. "There must be something."

"T'pol," he called. He was afraid she would ransack his laboratory in her wild state. She faced him and waited. He said quickly, "I can give you a sedative that should lessen the symptoms for a few days. It will give you a chance to get some sleep, and I'll get to work right away on some kind of antidote to pon farr. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try."

She seemed to collect herself with some difficulty as she moved toward the doctor. A little shamefacedly, she said, "I'm sorry, Doctor. Thank you." Phlox rummaged in his apothecary section, eventually finding the sedative that he hoped would hold back the worst of the pon farr for a little while. He put some in a hypospray and administered it. Almost immediately, her face relaxed and he  
could see the tension draining from her body.

"Get some sleep, Sub-commander, then come back for another shot. This sedative will allow you to continue with your duties and won't cloud your mind. It just dulls the senses. Food and beverages will taste bland and nothing will seem very interesting. Other than that, there shouldn't be any side-effects."

T'Pol nodded and left. Phlox stared at the closed door for several seconds, wondering if he should tell Captain Archer. As long as she remained sedated, she should pose no danger to the crew.

* * *

"Nothing!" Archer grumbled aloud at the computer screen. He typed in another set of keywords for the database to analyse then waited. "I must be doing this wrong," he said to Porthos, his pet beagle which was sitting by his leg. The dog's tail thumped on the floor and his tongue lolled out, seemingly happy to have been noticed after such a long time. Archer leaned back in his chair and stretched. His neck was tight, tense from sitting so long in front of the computer.

"This is no way to spend my off-duty hours, is it, Porthos?" he said leaning down to scratch the dog's head and around its ears. Porthos tried to lick Archer's hand but he pulled it back. "Why don't you take a break, Porthos? You've been standing at attention for a long time. Go lie down, boy."

The dog lowered its head and slunk across the small room to a cushion on the floor and with an audible sigh, flopped down, his moist brown eyes watching Archer for any sign of relenting on his dismissal.

Archer turned back to the screen. A page of text had come up and he leaned forward to read it. He compressed his lips with impatience and drummed on the desktop. None of the results seemed to match T'Pol's symptoms. Dr. Phlox wouldn't tell him what was wrong with her, but there was clearly something, and so far, Archer couldn't find anything in the Starfleet medical database or in the parts of the Vulcan database to which he had access. He didn't have clearance for most of their databases and even if he had, they were written in  
Vulcan.

Frustrated, he stood up and flexed his arms and neck again. This was getting him nowhere. The only person who could tell him what was wrong wouldn't and Archer was afraid to confront T'Pol again. She had acted so strangely at their last meeting that he was dumbfounded. He shook his head and sat down again. There had to be something on her symptoms somewhere, some clue to her bizarre behaviour.

He tried some more keywords; "Vulcan physiology, heat, irrational, aggressive, tense," and then clicked the send button. After a few seconds a new page appeared from the Starfleet database. The result of his query had brought in several responses under Vulcan physiology and disorders. Archer scrolled down alphabetically through descriptions of Vulcan diseases, disappointed that none of the information seemed to exactly fit ...until he reached the P section. His mouth dropped open as he stopped scrolling and backed up. As he read, his scalp tingled with the certainty that he had found the answer. No wonder she wouldn't tell him! It was almost too incredible to believe.

With only Porthos listening he read the text aloud. "Pon Farrâ€”the Vulcan mating cycle which occurs in mature males and females every seven years. The onset is characterized by excess body heat, and elevated levels of hormones which activate the mating urge. The individuals may become irrational and highly aggressive. Extreme caution must be used in dealing with a Vulcan who has passed into the Pon Farr cycle while in deep space. Unless the individual finds a mate, he/she will die. A Vulcan in Pon Farr is dangerous and have been known to kill in order to mate. At present, Starfleet has never had any occasion to treat this particular characteristic of Vulcans and the Vulcans have not been forthcoming how they deal with it themselves."

It was a terse and extremely unsatisfactory bit of information but at least he knew what was causing her odd behaviour over the last weeks. There must be a time period associated with the cycle, a lead in time during which the Vulcan becomes aware of the situation and takes steps to remedy it. Finding a mate seemed to be the only remedy that Archer had read in the Starfleet text. There seemed to be no medication or any other measure to counter the effects.

Archer spun around on his chair and stood up again. Porthos looked up hopefully as his master stepped by him, going out the door. The captain hurried toward the turbo-lift, breaking his stride as he passed T'Pol's door. Should he tell he knew what she was going through? Offer to help? He shook his head. The only help he could offer her was out of the question. There had to be another way. Even  
thinking about what she needed caused him to break out in a sweat. It was a very unprofessional way to think of your first officer, even though he had been having these thoughts for quite a while. The knowledge that not only would she be willing but that he might even be saving her life only made it that much more difficult to continue to the turbo-lift. His body yearned to stop in front of her door and take the risk that she would accept him; his mind rejected the whole idea as being totally against regulations and unbecoming a man of his rank.

For several seconds, he remained rooted to the spot, undecided, almost poised to press on the bell to her door. Suddenly, her door swished open and she started to come out then stopped, her mouth dropping open in a silent oh. Recovering quickly, she said, "Were you coming to see me, Captain Archer? I was on my way to the bridge to finish my shift."

Though she had dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn't been sleeping, T'Pol looked better than she had earlier. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions about what he had read in the database. It might be something else; something to do with Pa'an Syndrome. Or maybe it was just the stress of being the lone Vulcan in a ship full of humans. He knew he would find it stressful to be the lone human in a ship full of Vulcans.

Suddenly her eyes changed as she stared at him; a hungry almost predatory look came over them. Archer tensed, getting ready to back away. Her voice dropped in timbre, something between a purr and a growl, as she moved closer and said, "Perhaps we have something to discuss in private, Captain?"

Archer swallowed as he felt the heat emanating from her even from a distance of several feet. Without his volition, his body was reacting to her. He couldn't seem to get his legs to move him to a safer distance. 'Pheromones,' he thought. 'I'm responding to her pheromones. That's all it is. An unseen chemical that is triggering my own sexual reactions.' A small trickle of sweat tickled its way down his spine and he knew he should get away from her but he was transfixed by those wild eyes as she closed the distance.

Taking hold of his arm, she began to lead him toward her quarters.

Phlox shook himself out of his reverie and turned back to his bank of computers. He had covered for T'Pol with the captain but wasn't sure how long the sedatives would keep her under control or what she might do when that medication became ineffective. At some point, Archer would have to be informed if only to keep the crew safe. Vulcans had greater strength than humans and were trained in martial combat from an early age. She would over-match anyone who got in her way, and  
could easily injure or kill someone. It was a heavy responsibility, Phlox thought, to keep a patient's confidence while trying to make sure she did no harm.

He got up and wandered around his laboratory, working on the problem in his mind. 'It must be certain hormones,' he decided. 'Those hormones must trigger the onset of pon farr and upon mating, other hormones turn it off. Now all I have to do is find out which ones.'

The doctor had already been unsuccessful in searching the Vulcan medical databases. There was very little information on pon farr, almost as if it was a guilty secret. 'Perhaps it is,' he thought wryly. 'It would be just like the Vulcans to pretend it doesn't exist. How they must hate the loss of control. Their carefully constructed wall against the emotions is violently torn down and they are made to act like their barbarian forebears for a brief time. Yet, I pity T'Pol. Of all the Vulcans I have known, she is one of the few who seems to have a soft centre which she shows sometimes.' With a feeling of affection, he recalled her compassionate response to his problem with the Antaran scientist. T'Pol had listened sympathetically and understood his frustration with the former enemy, and even, he felt, been saddened by his loss of contact with his son, Melus.

Phlox drew in a steadying breath as an idea formed. There was one person whom he could contact to get some information about Vulcans; one person who might be willing to disregard the veil of secrecy around pon farr. Using his access to the Vulcan medical database, the doctor finally located the person he sought, and without contacting the communications officer on the bridge, sent a message directly to him. Having posted his message, Phlox got up from the console and  
began to pace. What if he wasn't at that location any longer? Did the Vulcans keep their personnel directories up to date? If he received the message, would he answer?

To fill in the time, the doctor began to look over his own medical files; the confidential files that he kept on each crewmember. T'Pol's file was quite lengthy. He had made copious notes on Pa'an Syndrome and on Vulcan physiology in general. Reviewing it, Phlox realised he actually knew very little about Vulcans. With that unsatisfactory thought, he began to add what he had ascertained so far about pon farr. The tests he had done had recorded higher body temperature, as well as elevated levels of dopamine and endorphins, plus some hormones that were unique to Vulcans and for which he had as yet no knowledge.

He wasn't aware of how much time had passed before the console buzzed. A message flickered onto the screen. Instantly, Phlox pressed the accept button and a face flashed into view. The doctor breathed a sigh of relief as he smiled at the Vulcan.

"Dr. Yuris, I wasn't sure I would be able to reach you. Thank you for responding so quickly."

The Vulcan doctor smiled briefly, as a perplexed and worried look hovered over his face. "As soon I read it was about Sub-commander T'Pol, I replied. What can I do for you, Dr. Phlox? Is she suffering a relapse of Pa'an Syndrome?"

Phlox was taken aback by the anxiety on Dr. Yuris' features. He did not try to hide his emotions as most Vulcans would, but expressed them in an almost human way. Phlox warmed to this courageous Vulcan who had defended T'Pol against the Vulcan medical team when they wanted to take the Sub-commander off Enterprise and return her to her home planet for having sullied her mind with a mind-meld, thereby contracting Pa'an Syndrome. To Vulcans, it was the ultimate in unnatural acts.

"No, Dr. Yuris, the Pa'an Syndrome is still in remission, thanks to your help." Phlox hesitated, unsure how Yuris would respond to this particular crisis. A little uncertainly, he said, "Are you alone right now? What I have to tell you is of a very delicate nature."

Yuris grimaced slightly, and replied, "I'm in my own quarters and quite alone. No one wants to come near me in case of being infected by my unhealthy philosophy. I have been struck from the medical rolls and can no longer treat patients. However, I have been given some special research to do and I find the solitary work is very pleasing to me."

Phlox gave him a sympathetic look, unsure if Yuris was trying to put a brave face on his situation or if he really was happy. "I am sorry about your ill-luck, Dr. Yuris. But perhaps being in a research facility will turn out to be of use to me with this particular problem." Phlox studied the kind face on the screen before him, knowing he had to place a lot of trust in the other doctor. "I am unable to deal with this problem and hoped you might give me some  
information to save my patient. T'Pol has entered her pon farr cycle and I fear for her life."

Yuris looked surprised then perplexed. "Surely, Dr. Phlox, the answer is simple. She may choose a mate and the problem is solved."

"You forget, Dr. Yuris, that T'Pol is the only Vulcan on a human starship. She broke the agreement with her selected bond-mate, Koss, and now has no one."

The Vulcan narrowed his eyes in concentration, then said, "I see the nature of your problem. But there must be a suitable male on board, someone who would be discreet and understanding."

Phlox smiled tensely. This was getting more difficult all the time. "I believe she might have someone she could turn to, but he is unlikely to be a willing partner. He has very high principles and would see this as a misuse of his authority."

Yuris stroked his chin thoughtfully and stared at Phlox. "You mean Captain Archer, I presume?" When Phlox nodded, Yuris continued, "So, failing the simple solution, what is left? As I see it, there are only two optionsâ€”she finds a mate ...or she dies in terrible agony. If Captain Archer knew what a dreadful fate is awaiting her, he might be more amenable to bending his principles. If I were nearer or able to reach your ship, I would not hesitate to help her." Yuris' tone was somewhat reproachful, and Phlox suspected that the Vulcan doctor  
might have some tender feelings for T'Pol.

"There may be a third option, Dr. Yuris. Vulcans have been in space for centuries and this problem must have occurred many times while on deep space missions. What was done for those in the pon farr cycle?"

Yuris shrugged. "I don't know, Dr. Phlox. But perhaps I could find out for you. One presumes those affected would be returned to Vulcan if they were not with their bond-mates. Usually, once bonded, the couple remains together so this situation may be rare."

Phlox gripped the console and leaned toward the screen, staring tensely into the Vulcan's eyes. "What I need, I believe, is some type of hormone; the hormone that is released after mating. I am sure that would end the pon farr cycle. If you could get that information for me, I am sure I could synthesize it in my laboratory."

The Vulcan looked dubious and began to shake his head. "I don't know where such information would be kept. The Vulcan medical databanks probably do not contain anything on pon farr other than what you have already found. But I will search for you."

"I would be most grateful for anything you can do, Dr. Yuris." Phlox took in a relieved breath as he reached for the button to end their communication.

Yuris suddenly said, "Wait! How is T'Pol? Is she suffering?"

"I have given her sedatives to reduce the effects but I fear that I will have to give her stronger and stronger doses as her pon farr cycle progresses." Phlox offered a reassuring smile to the Vulcan. "If I have to, I will sedate her completely to keep her from harming herself or anyone else."

"She doesn't have a lot of time, Dr. Phlox. She must complete the pon farr within two to three weeks. It varies with the individual. I will get back to you with something very soon." Yuris clicked the communications button on his end and his face faded from the screen.

Phlox leaned back in his chair while continuing to look at the blank screen. 'That is all I can do for now, except wait for T'Pol to come back for her next shot." He sighed heavily, then rose to find something to do to pass the time, wondering as he did how T'Pol was managing.

* * *

Her hand on his arm seemed to scorch him; she was astonishingly hot like someone with a high fever. Archer knew if he opposed her as she pulled him toward her quarters, in her present state, she would force him. Unresisting, he allowed himself to be led into her small neat room, his insides quaking. He didn't know what he would do. Everything male in him shouted to give her what she needed. It would be so easy to let go. And it was what he wanted too. If he was honest with himself, he wanted this as much as she seemed to. Except, he reminded himself, he was in control of his actions; she was not. It would be like taking a woman who was drunk or drugged. Almost rape, in fact. Another part of his mind wondered 'why me'? If she had encountered Trip or Reed, would the other man be in here now? It was an unappealing thought that he was just a sort of stud horse for her; any man would do.

She reached across him to press the button that closed the door, remaining so close he felt the full force of her heat. A rush of sensation pulsed through him. With a coy smile, she ran her finger down his cheek and across his lips, setting up a trail of fire.

"Vulcans don't kiss," she whispered against his cheek. "It is something we learned from humans. I understand it is highly pleasurable." She leaned against him; he felt every part of her almost melting into him. His own body heat merged with hers and he was losing it, being consumed by a fire as old as time. As she curled her hand behind his neck to pull his lips to hers, he tried to hold  
back.

"Don't resist me, Captain," she growled. "I need you."

Archer knew if she kissed him, he would be lost. Those full soft lips were tantalizingly close; he could feel her warm breath against his mouth as his mind duelled against her hunger and his own now aroused desire.

Exerting a mild force, he pushed back. "T'Pol," he choked out, "I know what is driving you and I can't do this. It's wrong. I'd be taking advantage of you."

She studied him for a moment with a vulnerable look that stirred him, made him want to help her, protect her.

"I have chosen you, Jonathan. You must ..."

"Why did you choose me?"

T'Pol gave him that arched brow look that he knew so well meant she thought he had said something stupid. "You were the only logical choice." She pressed closer and shivered, her breath gasping as she tried to continue. "If I don't mate, I will die." With renewed strength, she pulled his lips against hers and held him tightly.

The kiss burned away his last shred of resistance. He groaned as she writhed against him, gave in as she began to pull him toward the narrow bed. It was what they both wanted, he rationalised. He ran his hands over that slim firm body, over the silky material that hid nothing from his heated imagination.

So immersed was he in the kiss, that he didn't hear the communicator at first. It came again and this time he surfaced with reluctance from his desire-drugged state. Gently, he pushed T'Pol back and staggered to her comm-link. "Archer here," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "What is it, Hoshi?"

"A ship is approaching, Captain. They are hailing us." Hoshi's disembodied voice seemed unnaturally loud in the confines of T'Pol's room. Archer glanced at T'Pol; the call from Hoshi had acted like a cold shower on him, but he could see T'Pol was still in a fevered state.

"I'll be right there. Archer out." He turned to T'Pol but she rushed past him and was out in the corridor before he could react. She reached the turbo-lift ahead of him and the door closed in his face. The extra few seconds gave him time to compose himself as he waited for the lift to return to C deck.

When he arrived on the bridge, T'Pol was already at her station, as coolly in control as if nothing had happened. As she looked up from her monitors, her eyes were lucid and clear. He breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to Reed. "Are they charging weapons, Lieutenant?"

Reed glanced up and replied, "No, sir. They're on impulse power and have slowed to almost stop."

"Put the message on screen, Ensign Sato."

A strange-looking being flashed into view. His face was marked by a high ridge across his brow that also ran down the centre of his face, almost like a blunt trunk. Large bulbous eyes on either side of the nose stared curiously at Archer, and the captain assumed the other being must think he looked equally alien. It was one of the wonders of space travel, of meeting new civilisations and other sentient life-forms, seeing phenomena like the Robinson Nebula that he had shared recently with T'Pol.

"I'm Jonathan Archer, captain of the Starship Enterprise." No matter how often he said it, Archer felt a thrill of wonder that he really was so lucky. Even after two years, he continued to almost have to pinch himself to be sure he wasn't still dreaming about the day he would travel into space aboard the first Warp 5 ship.

Hoshi had already turned on the intergalactic translator and after a few sentences of garbled words, she was able to set the linguistics so the alien's language came through as English.

"I am Ranu, high commander of the Dargo, our fastest space vessel." Ranu hesitated, a look of uncertainty in those moist, marble-like eyes. "We need your help, Captain Archer. Our planet is in danger, the same danger that destroyed our ancestors' planet over two hundred cycles ago."

"What happened to the planet, Captain Ranu?" Archer cocked a quick glance at T'Pol. She was staring in fascination at the view screen.

"Twin comets had somehow altered their orbit and instead of bypassing the planet Lannis as they always had, they came on a collision course for the planet. The comets orbit each other from a short distance and create tremendous gravitational force. Lannis was pulled out of its own orbit and the stresses within caused the planet to explode. They had been able to evacuate many to another planet but still, millions of our ancestors died on Lannis."

A small sound from T'Pol drew Archer's attention to her. She seemed to be fighting some extreme emotion as she clung to her console, the warm colour in her face paling. Archer was torn between concern for her and his obligation to help the other captain.

"What can we do for you, Captain Ranu?"

"The twin comets are once again threatening our new home world. We have limited space flight capability and are once again evacuating as many citizens as possible to another planet outside the comets' trajectory. If you could help us with the evacuation, it would move more swiftly and more lives will be saved."

"Where are the comets now? If you could send us whatever data you have on them including their co-ordinates, we will see what we can do." Archer's stomach clenched at the tremendous responsibility that had landed suddenly in his lap. He had another idea but first he would have to confer with his staff.

"I will send the data to you, Captain Archer. And thank you for any help you can give us." Ranu's face disappeared from the view screen, replaced by the star field.

Hoshi tapped a few keys on her console then said, "I have the data, Captain."

"Transfer it to the ready room, Ensign." He motioned to Reed and Mayweather. "I need you in the ready room, you too T'Pol. And Ensign Sato, tell Commander Tucker to meet us there."

Once inside the small room with its banks of computers and instruments, Archer went straight to the long table in the centre. "Sub-commander, based on the data, where are the comets now? How much time do we have before they approach Ranu's planet?"

"At impulse speed, we have about a month before the comets strike the planet," T'Pol said, her voice unemotional, but in her eyes, there was a hint of anxiety. "That should give us enough time to help evacuate many from the planet if we start immediately."

Archer checked his irritation that she would assume he would do what she suggested. He was only glad that the sedative seemed to be working, keeping her under control. As he was about to speak, Tucker arrived and was quickly apprised of the situation.

"T'Pol, show us the location and trajectory of the comets based on the data from Captain Ranu." Efficiently, she tapped on some keys and an image appeared on the view screen set into the top of the table.

She stepped closer to the screen and with her finger traced a line from the comets' current location and direction to the small dot that was the planet. Looking around at the others, she said, "Using the data from the debris field, I have created a computer model of what happened to the planet Lannis." She walked to the view screen on the wall, and pointed to a computer generated image. "Lannis would have been about the same size as Mars of your solar system. One of the comets is approximately the size of your moon, and the other about half that size. They are locked in a wide orbit with a period of about two hundred earth years, though the orbit deteriorates and wobbles slightly due to the gravitational forces between the two comets. Based on the current data, I estimate the smaller comet will strike the planet in about one month with a force that will cause it to move from its orbit and be destroyed like Lannis." The computer simulation showed the comets approaching the planet, then the smaller one hitting the planet and a large explosion. "To save the inhabitants, we must start evacuating them now." With that, she moved back to the table to join the others.

Archer nodded. "Thank you, T'Pol. What I have in mind is to intercept the comets and either destroy them or deflect them from the planet's path." He heard T'Pol inhale sharply and when he glanced her way, she had that look in her eyes that meant he was in for a battle of wills. Steeling himself, he turned to Reed. "Lieutenant, I want you to inventory all of our weapons and their strengths. Compare them with the sizes of the comets and give me a report on what you estimate would do the job." Turning to Mayweather, he said, "Plot a course to  
the comets, keeping in mind we have to stay out of their gravitational pull. As soon as you have the course set, we'll move out at warp five to intercept them." He tried to ignore the increasingly angry look on T'Pol's face as he said to Tucker, "Trip, make sure the engines are in top shape in case we have to make a  
quick getaway. If this plan fails, we'll still have time to get back and help with the evacuation."

"Captain Archer!" T'Pol snapped. "I must protest in the strongest terms to this ill-thought out plan. You are not only risking the lives of the people we have promised to help, but also risking the ship and crew." She drew a deep breath and continued, in a scathingly harsh voice. "This is not one of your Old West films where you go gun-slinging after a comet like some space cowboy; this is a  
situation where the consequences are too great for such risks."

Archer clenched his jaw; that remark about being a 'space cowboy' really struck home. It hurt like hell coming from her. For a moment, he was undecided; should he go with his gut reaction to the situation, or do the safe thing as she wanted? Though he was stung and angry, he fixed her with a stern look, forcing his voice into a neutral tone. "Your objection has been duly noted, Sub-Commander. Now, you will assist Reed, Tucker and Mayweather by giving them the  
necessary data so we may implement the plan as safely as possible. Dismissed."

The others filed out but T'Pol remained as he had expected she would. As soon as the door slid closed, she turned on him in a voice filled with rage. "How dare you assume you have the right to throw all those lives into a gamble that we could succeed in deflecting those comets! And did you consider that by deflecting the comets, you could be putting them into the path of another civilisation? This is interference at its worst! No wonder the Vulcan High Command was reluctant to help humans get into space. You are not mature enough!"

Though he tried to remember she was not herself, he could feel his self-confidence disintegrating under her stinging judgment of his command. 'She doesn't really mean it,' he told himself as he drew on his inner resources and attempted to hold back an angry retort. 'She's under the influence of pon farr which brings out a lot of aggression.' Even as he thought it, he wondered if he was rationalising. Maybe she really did think he was wrong. It wouldn't be the first time. And sometimes she had been right and had saved him from his mistakes. Would this be one of those times? Except now, he doubted if in her present state she could be relied upon for much help. She was the one in need of help and Phlox's sedatives would eventually be ineffective in keeping her under control. His trust in her was shaken and he realised it was like losing a prop that held him up. He felt anchor-less suddenly. The full weight of the situation dropped on him and he wished he had someone who would back him up, assure him he was doing the right thing.

He thought of A.G. Robinson, and wondered what A.G. would do. 'We won't get anywhere without taking risks,' A.G. had often said. Archer also remembered the other advice his friend had given him, unwanted and unappreciated as it was at the time, 'You're too much by the book, Jon. Starfleet doesn't just want a great pilot; they want a great captain.' Would a great captain risk so many lives to do something that could turn out to be a disaster? Or would a great captain take the risk that he could save more lives by doing something dangerous?

He could hear her harsh breathing in the silence of the ready room as he made his decision. She was almost out of control again; an almost feral snarl marred her lips and her eyes impaled him with a hungry look. She needed to be sedated again if only to keep her steady so she could help the others. Her assistant, Xin Lao, would be of use too. He was almost as knowledgeable as T'Pol and was a Zen master from Tibet in addition to being a scientist. They made a good team,  
and Archer felt a twinge of jealousy when he thought how alike they seemed.

He firmed his voice and said, "T'Pol, report to sickbay for another injection, then return to the bridge and get started on your projections. The others will need the data very soon. Have Ensign Xin Lao help you. We are going ahead with my plan."

* * *

T'Pol stood by the turbo-lift, panting with fury. As the door opened, a crewman tried to step past her. She pushed him aside as she entered the lift, and he stumbled then muttered an apology. His half-hearted apology went unheard as the door slid shut behind her and she stabbed at the button for D deck where the medical facilities were located. When the door opened she stalked down to sickbay and stopped in front of the glass panels bearing a stylized caduceus.

Taking several deep breaths, she tried to compose herself. Inside, she felt the banked fires trying to spread, trying to take her over completely. It was demanding all her inner strength to hold on but under it all, was the dread that it would be for nothing. Without a mate, she would die. Not just die, but fall into a ravening fit like a rabid animal, her brain and neural functions so overloaded they would kill her. But not before she lost all semblance of what made a Vulcan civilised. Despite the heat that seemed to be burning her up, she felt an icicle of fear stab her.

She pressed the button to open the door and entered the sterile atmosphere, its brilliance causing her protective inner eyelids to close. 'The bright lights have never bothered me before so I must assume that photo-sensitivity is one of the pon farr symptoms,' she thought as she looked around for Dr. Phlox.

He came out of his laboratory with a look of surprise on his face. "Back so soon, Sub-commander? I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour."

T'Pol strode into the lab and glanced quickly over the jars and phials of medicines and ingredients. She turned as Phlox joined her. Though she tried to control it, her voice came out as a growl. "I need something stronger, Dr. Phlox. The sedative you gave me isn't working." She put her hands behind her back, restraining an irrational urge to strike at his smiling face. He looked as if he was taunting her, laughing at her. Trembling from the strain, she turned so she couldn't see him. "Give me something, now!" she snapped.

"I can't give you anything stronger, Sub-commander. A stronger sedative would put you to sleep. Unless that is what you want." Phlox's gently mocking voice drove her into a nearly mad rage. She spun and glared at him.

From between gritted teeth, she snarled, "I am ordering you to give me a stronger sedative! If you refuse my order, I could have you court-martialled!"

"As you wish, Sub-commander," Phlox said, a cheery resignation in his tone. He prepared the hypo-spray and injected her with it.

She was suddenly dizzy. The room was spinning, growing dark. Reaching out, she grasped Phlox's lab coat as she felt herself falling.

From some dark depth, she heard sounds, clicking, humming, rattling. Opening her eyes, she realised she was lying on a bio-bed in sickbay. The instruments and equipment kept up a steady stream of background noise that seemed to jar her nerves. Most unnerving was the fact that she hardly remembered getting there.

Phlox appeared at her side. "Feeling better, Sub-commander? I gave you quite a bit of sedation but it seems to have had a salutary effect on you. You have been asleep for three hours."

T'Pol sat up suddenly, then clutched the bed as her head spun from the abrupt movement. "I am needed on the bridge. My data is required for the mission."

The doctor grasped her arm in a gentle but firm grip. "Your assistant, Ensign Xin Lao, has supplied the data and we are now on our way toward the twin comets. We should be there in another few hours. So take it easy and relax. Go to your quarters and get some more rest. You are not needed right now."

A heavy weight pressed down on her chest, almost too heavy to force out the next few breaths. Her throat tightened. Like a black blanket, depression settled on her spirit, sapping her energy, taking with it her will to live. She was not needed, her assistant had taken over and done her job. T'Pol swallowed the sob that nearly escaped as she slid off the bio-bed and forced herself to stand up.

Phlox took her hand and she did not resist. She sensed concern from his touch, gentleness and worry. He said, "Sub-commander, perhaps you would be encouraged to know that I have made some progress toward a serum to inhibit the pon farr. I have been in contact with Dr. Yuris and he has sent me some very useful data on Vulcan hormones. With the samples I have taken from you, I believe I just might have something soon." He patted her hand reassuringly and smiled into her eyes.

His kindness made tears prickle behind her eyes and she dropped her gaze to the floor. "You have been very kind to me, Doctor. I hope all your work will not be in vain." With that, she pulled her hand away and left the sickbay.

* * *

"The twin comets are within scanner range, Captain," Reed said suddenly.

"On screen, Lieutenant," Archer replied. He was tense and his voice showed it. Now that they were getting within striking distance he wasn't so sure about his plan. The comets were much larger on the screen than he had imagined, even with Xin Lao's computer simulations. Though the ensign was competent, Archer wished T'Pol was on the bridge right now. He needed someone who could assimilate data  
quickly and keep a cool head. He needed T'Pol.

"Keep us well back from the gravitational pull, Mr. Mayweather," Archer said. "I'm going to sickbay to see how T'Pol is doing."

"Aye, sir," Mayweather replied to the captain's departing back.

Archer marched into sickbay and looked around quickly then called out, "Dr. Phlox! Where's T'Pol? Is she all right?"

"In here, Captain!" Phlox called back. "I'm working on a serum that I think will solve her problem. But I'm at a delicate stage and can't leave the lab."

The captain joined him and looked over his shoulder at several glass dishes and a rack of vials. On the desk were an array of notes, obviously in Denobulan. "Where is T'Pol now? I need her on the bridge."

Without looking up from studying a plate on his electron microscope, Phlox replied, "Probably in her quarters. I gave her a very strong sedative and she slept for several hours as you know. Now, she seems rather depressed, not an unusual reaction. I suggested she should get some more rest. I told she wouldn't be needed for a while."

Archer hurried to the turbo-lift and punched the button for C deck where the crew quarters were located. He had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sickening sense of dread. As he reached her door, he hesitated then pressed the door chime. It went unanswered. He tried again, thinking she might be asleep. When the second ring went unanswered, he pushed the open button and went in. Even before he looked around, the stillness in the darkened room told him she wasn't there.

"Bridge to Captain Archer" sounded suddenly in the room, startling him. It was Reed's voice. He pressed the comm-link.

"Archer here. What is it, Lieutenant?" His hands were sweating and his stomach was doing strange flip-flops.

"One of the shuttles has just launched. The bio-sign shows it's Sub-commander T'Pol who has taken it."

"On my way, Lieutenant. Have Mayweather track the shuttle." A million butterflies seemed to be fluttering around in his stomach. He was torn by indecision. Continue with the mission or go after T'Pol. What was the Vulcan dictum T'Pol liked to quote, "The good of the many outweighs the needs of the one." He made his decision and rushed back to the bridge.

Once there, he checked the location of the shuttle. It was moving toward the comets at sub-light speed but gaining quickly in acceleration. He held his breath as he watched the tiny shuttle moving toward the comets. What kind of craziness did she have in mind?

"Plot the trajectory of the shuttle, Mr. Mayweather and let me know when you have it." He turned to Reed. "Have you rigged up the mines, Lieutenant?"

Reed beamed. It was obvious he was anxious to try out his theory that they could blow up the comets with some strong explosives enclosed in a string of mines. He had explained his idea in the ready room several hours before and had spent the interval preparing the devices. Archer wasn't sure the mines would be enough, but he was willing to give the lieutenant's idea a chance.

"Deploy the mines, Lieutenant," Archer said. His voice did not betray the unease he felt as Mayweather cut across the path the of the comets leaving a string of ball-like devices in their wake.

"The gravitational pull of the comets is getting stronger, Captain," Mayweather said in a carefully controlled tone. His eyes showed a heightened level of anxiety as he manoeuvred the ship unnervingly close to the two comets. They passed through the icy streamers that preceded the comets and the ship shuddered in the turbulence.

"Keep her steady, Mr. Mayweather." Archer turned to Hoshi, "Signal Commander Tucker and tell him to get ready to give us everything he's got."

Hoshi suddenly pressed the earpiece closer to her ear. "I'm getting a message from the shuttle, Captain."

"On audio, Ensign." Archer nearly sagged with relief when he heard T'Pol's voice ring clear through the speakers.

"Captain, I have taken some readings on the size and trajectory of the comets. Your mines will not be enough to deflect them. You will need to hit the comets with every weapon we have when the mines detonate. I am sending you the data where the most vulnerable points in the comets are located. T'Pol out."

Archer smiled, breathing more easily. "Thanks,T'Pol. Your data has arrived and Lieutenant Reed is feeding it into the ship's weapons database. Good work, Sub-commander, now return to the ship." When she did not reply, Archer frowned at Hoshi who shook her head.

"She is not responding, Captain."

Mayweather added, "The shuttle is now moving away from us and picking up speed. She seems to be on a course toward the planet that the comets were heading for."

"Hail her again, Ensign Sato." Archer waited, his fists clenched, angry that she would take such a risk, then disobey his order to come back. What the hell was she doing?

* * *

'Damn her!' Archer thought as he watched the shuttle speeding away from Enterprise. With difficulty, he turned his mind back to the problem at hand. Thanks to T'Pol, he now had more data, and felt more confident that the comets could be either destroyed or deflected.

"Put all weapons on line, Lieutenant and prepare to detonate the mines. Mr. Mayweather, keep our distance but maintain a parallel course to the comets. We'll bring all the starboard weapons to bear."

"Aye, sir." The eagerness in Reed's voice almost made Archer smile. The armoury officer loved his weapons; they were like life-sized toys to him, it seemed.

"Mr. Mayweather, where is the shuttle now?" Archer moved to stand behind the helmsman and watched the small dot moving quickly away from them, now well ahead of the comets and Enterprise.

"She's twelve hundred kilometres downrange, sir. Well out of the danger zone." Mayweather glanced over his shoulder at the captain then resumed watching his monitors.

"Good," Archer replied. "Prepare to detonate the mines, Mr. Reed. On my command, detonate and fire the cannons simultaneously." Archer swallowed to moisten his throat; it was dry with tension. They wouldn't get a second chance to blow up the comets and he wasn't sure how much damage they could inflict, or even what would happen when the explosions hit the targets. Maybe nothing. "Are you ready,  
Malcolm?"

"Aye, sir," Reed repeated. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, and his hands twitched noticeably as he finalised his calculations. "Ready when you are, Captain."

"Magnify the view screen, Ensign Sato." Archer knew he was delaying the inevitable moment but he also wanted to make sure T'Pol was in no danger from the debris or the explosions. Hoshi increased the view. The twin comets looked formidably large compared to the Enterprise and Archer suffered a sick feeling of trepidation. The twin ice and rock balls appeared almost impenetrable, invincible against the paltry force they could bring to bear on them. The whole thing was doomed to fail.

"Mr. Reed, are you sure you have targeted the vulnerable areas that T'Pol sent you? Double check."

Reed was sweating profusely now as his fingers flew over the instruments. Finally, he forced a smile and nodded. "Yes, Captain. I'm locked onto the co-ordinates she sent and ready to fire."

There was no more reason to wait and every minute of delay meant the comets were closer to a certain collision with the planet Tulla to which the evacuees from the ill-fated Lannis had been sent two hundred years before. If Enterprise failed, history would repeat itself and the civilisation would be decimated again.

"Prepare to fire," Archer said, a little louder than he needed to. He took a deep breath then exhaled, "Fire!"

For a few seconds nothing happened, then the screen seemed to explode with blinding light. The ship shuddered and Archer stumbled, and grasped the arm of his chair. When the light faded, he could see large chunks of rock and ice moving in slow motion in all directions.

"Evasive manoeuvres, Mr. Mayweather! We don't want those rocks bouncing off the hull." Archer laughed aloud, elated and exhilarated. When the crew applauded and cheered, Reed stood up and took a mock bow, a huge happy grin on his face. The tension on the bridge turned to relief as the crew shook hands and clapped each other on the back.

"Good work, Mr. Reed," Archer said as he strode to the armoury officer and shook his hand. "Now, it's just a matter of breaking up the largest pieces. Continue firing into the comet's biggest fragments."

Reed grinned, and said, "Yes sir. Too bad Sub-commander T'Pol didn't get to see this. If it hadn't been for her data, I'm not sure we'd have made much of a dent in those devils." He laughed shortly. "I can admit it now; I was pretty worried that my idea wouldn't work."

Archer nodded. "I'll make sure she gets some of the credit for this mission, Mr. Reed." He turned to the view screen as Reed began to fire photon torpedoes into the rocky debris. Like an old-fashioned computer game, Archer thought as he watched the explosions smashing into the debris field.

"Ensign Sato, get Captain Ranu on the Dargo for me. We've got some good news for him and we also have to warn him about the meteorite shower that's heading his way. There may be some casualties on Tulla from meteorites striking the planet but it won't be anything like the devastation that the smaller comet would have caused."

"Yes, sir," Hoshi replied. She regarded Archer for a long moment with a penetrating look of wide-eyed curiosity, then added, "Should I hail Sub-commander T'Pol also? Maybe she'll be responding by now."

"Negative, Ensign. We'll catch up with her when we're finished here. She is going to monitor the effects of the meteorites on Tulla." Archer forced himself to meet Hoshi's sceptical gaze without wavering, but he knew she realised he was improvising, making excuses for T'Pol's defection. The ensign was altogether too perceptive.

* * *

It looked like a solid canopy of trees underneath as the shuttle skimmed across the Tullan landscape. T'Pol scanned for life-forms while looking for a place to land. Finally, she saw an opening, a small clearing near a stream and angled the shuttle down to it. As the craft came to rest on the soft earth, T'Pol gripped her head. It felt like it was about to explode with all the gibbering and inner  
chatter that had nearly driven her mad all the way to the planet.

She sat for several minutes trying to collect herself, to get ready for the last part of her life's journey. 'I never thought it would end like this,' she thought, 'or so soon.' Forcing back the tears that pressed behind her eyes, she lifted the back pack off the shuttle floor, and checked the contents. Inside was enough water for a day or even two if she was lucky, some dried food wafers, a phase pistol, her scanner and her journal padd. Eventually, someone would find her remains and the message she would leave for her family.

N'Vara's serene face rose in her mind and T'Pol experienced a sudden warmth and yearning, a wish to see her mother just once more, to tell her ...what? That she loved her? Her mother would be shocked by the inappropriate sentiments, and yet T'Pol felt it keenly now. All those emotions that were repressed as being un-Vulcan churned inside her, raging to get out. She had little left to fight them with; the pon farr had stripped her emotions bare like a raw wound. All she could do now was try to die with her Vulcan dignity intact. No one could say that she had not died well.

With that melancholy thought, T'Pol pressed the hatch release and the door lifted. Hot, humid air rushed into the temperature-controlled cabin, a cloying heat that nearly suffocated her as she moved slowly to climb out onto the surface. Beneath her feet, the ground seemed spongy and moist. The rain forest or jungle all around her was a startling green, an all-encompassing mass of huge foliage, not quite trees but much taller and larger than bushes. The forest ahead looked almost impenetrable and vast; vines clung to the trunks of the larger plants and snaked along the ground among the short soft grasses. Here and there, she could see spots of vivid colour, flowers and fungi most likely. The scientist in her began to wonder about the evolution of all this verdure and if there were any animals in this lush environment.

T'Pol re-closed the shuttle hatch and started into the jungle with no particular direction in mind. As she passed into the green dimness, the jungle seemed to envelop her and she experienced a moment of sheer panic, the terror of getting lost. Suddenly, she laughed aloud and unable to control it, laughed so hard she had to hang onto the trunk of a large plant for support. 'When you have no destination, how can you know if you are lost?' she asked herself logically as she gasped for breath.

Regaining control, she started forward again. The heat and humidity seemed to make every movement an effort, like the pressure of a heavy damp blanket that had settled upon her. The variety of greens shimmered before her as sweat stung eyes and she stopped frequently, labouring for breath. How did anyone live in this environment? she wondered as she plodded ahead, carefully avoiding the vines and creepers that tended to snag at her feet.

Finally, she stopped and leaned against a trunk. She took a long drink from her water pack. Her head was aching and inside she could hear drums, pulsing like her heartbeat. She pressed her temples, trying to block the sound but the memory surfaced despite her efforts. On Earth, she had been sent with a Vulcan science team to a South Seas island to retrieve some fragments of a downed spaceship that had crashed, killing the test pilot. They had found most of the wreckage, then finally the black box.

The night before they were to leave, the chief of the native people had invited her to his daughter's wedding. During the day, these folk wore regular clothing, brightly coloured shirts and dresses, so T'Pol was not prepared for the sight which met her when she had gone with the wedding party into the jungle where the ceremony would take place. A fire pit was set in the centre of a large clearing and already many people were seated around it. Gone were the day clothes; the men and women were clad only in a loose skirt made of grass and their bodies were painted in vivid designs. In the firelight, they looked primal and fascinating.

When the chief arrived, everyone sat down and a wedding feast was served with much toasting in a language which T'Pol did not understand. She declined the drink as it contained alcohol but ate the vegetable foods that were served. One of the foods must have contained some type of drug or perhaps she had a reaction to it. Her mind became clouded and she experienced a strange sense of oneness  
with these people, as if she belonged here. She had wondered if she was recalling a genetic memory of her Vulcan ancestors?

As soon as the feast ended, the music began. The musicians played a variety of fascinating instruments; a wooden xylophone, a large flute as tall as a man and a number of drums of different sizes. It was a cacophony of sound that assaulted her ears but after a short while, the beat of those drums began to echo in her mind, pulsing through her body. She could feel the excitement building around her as the people began to sing and chant. It was mesmerizing and though she tried to shield herself from it, she felt herself responding. A dance began; brightly painted women in grass skirts leapt and shimmied before a group of men, the object of the dance was obvious to T'Pol. Its sensuality was utterly enthralling as the women pulled the men into their dance and the drums beat louder. One of the men tried to pull T'Pol into the circle and she resisted at first but the clamour of the drums and the chanting seemed to infect her and she allowed herself to be drawn into the dance. Awkwardly, she tried to emulate their moves and eventually lost herself in the fervour of that primitive rite. The man danced before her, his eyes bright and intense with passion, his hands touching her now and then to pull her closer.

She sensed she was being watched and looking up, saw her commanding officer standing just outside the clearing, his eyes fixed on her. 'Gods of Vulcan!' T'Pol had thought, almost too startled to move. Forcing herself into motion, she left the dancers and approached Commander Mykos. For over a year, Mykos had been her mentor, almost a father figure. She felt shamed as if she had let him down. For several seconds, he said nothing, just stared at her.

Finally, he drew himself up and sighed deeply. Staring into her eyes, he asked quietly, "What are you doing here, T'Pol?"

She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth. "I was invited to their wedding ceremony, Commander. I was curious about their customs." Lowering her eyes, she waited for the harsh words that she deserved for her unseemly conduct.

Instead, Mykos touched her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. "You are young, T'Pol and your curiosity is keen. It makes you a good scientist." He studied her more intensely and added, "But be careful where your curiosity leads you. Temper it with wisdom." With that, he turned, heading back to the Vulcan camp. Though he didn't order her to, T'Pol followed him. She took a quick look back at the ceremony in the firelight, now reaching a crescendo and with a regretful sigh,  
returned to the Vulcans.

Now, as she leaned against the tree, T'Pol felt again the intensity of those drums building in her, pulsing through her blood like her own heartbeat. The face of the male dancer changed and became Archer's face. He was mostly bare except for his shorts; his body shining with sweat as he moved toward her, his arms outstretched, enticing her to come to him. She covered her eyes and shivered despite the heat. Her insides turned to liquid and she could hardly  
breathe. The heat was burning her up. Shaking her head, she forced herself to get moving again, running to escape this hallucination.

In her head, she could hear the howls and chants of the mating rite, the savage drumming that went on and on. No matter how fast she ran, the sounds pursued her. She tripped over a vine and fell into the soft grasses. Laying there panting, she willed herself to die, to end the torment. Her fingers found the phase pistol and for a brief moment, she considered using it. But that would bring dishonour on her family, on her memory. She dropped her hand and pushed herself to her knees, then to her feet.

She would not seek her own death. When death came, she would meet it with whatever form it took.

* * *

Answering a summons from Phlox, Archer hurried to sickbay. He entered the medical facility quickly and found the doctor, beaming even more than usual.

"I have it!" Phlox crowed, his face wreathed in smiles. "The serum is ready! Have T'Pol meet us here and I'll give her a controlled dose."

Archer's elation dissolved at the news. "It's too late, Dr. Phlox. T'Pol took one of the shuttles. We think she has landed on Tulla, the planet that was in danger. She didn't even wait to see if the explosives would work, just took off. We're on our way to Tulla now. I've got to find her before the pon farr kills her!" His stomach seemed leaden as he watched Phlox's cheery face turn introspective.

Phlox wandered across the brightly lit room, his brows drawn down. He turned and asked, "Have you had any message from her since she left Enterprise? Any idea of why she left?"

"I think she didn't want the crew to know about her condition, and the things she might be forced to do because of it. I think she is trying to die with dignity." Archer ground out the last, guiltily affected because he knew he could have saved her but would not. His bloody principles wouldn't allow it! He focussed on the doctor and said, "I'm going after her. Whatever it takes, Phlox, I won't let her die!"

Phlox nodded slowly then handed Archer a hypo-spray. "This contains the serum and a mild sedative. When you find her, place the hypo-spray over an area of bare flesh. You just have to press the plunger on the top and it will release the medication in a measured dose. There's enough in the container for two doses, though I don't think the second one will be needed." He regarded Archer solemnly for several seconds, then added, "I should go with you, just in case."

Archer shook his head. The fewer people who were involved, the less talk it would occasion among the crew. The one thing T'Pol would not want, was gossip about her. She held her Vulcan dignity around her like a heavy armour. He would safeguard her privacy but he would also save her life. Forcing a smile at Phlox, he said, "I'm taking Mayweather. The story will be that she was doing some scientific research on the planet and got into some difficulty. We're going to  
rescue her."

"Good luck, Captain. I haven't tested the serum but it should be effective. Be careful. From what Dr. Yuris told me, a Vulcan in the later stages of pon farr is desperate and dangerous. Take precautions for your own safety." The doctor sighed and turned away, busying himself with arranging vials and pipettes on a lab table.

* * *

Archer paced back and forth in his quarters. Though off duty, he could not leave with Mayweather yet. Nor could he settle enough to get some sleep, worrying about T'Pol. The captain of the Dargo had asked to join Enterprise at the site of the comets to be sure they were rendered harmless and to help demolish the rest of the large chunks. So, Archer had to agree and since then, had been champing at the bit waiting for the slower craft to arrive. It had been nearly  
ten hours since T'Pol had taken the shuttle and Archer was sure she must be on Tulla by now. He ran his hand over his face, blinking to get some moisture into his irritated, tired eyes.

"Bridge to Captain Archer," a male voice broke in on the comm-link. Archer recognized Ensign Gomez who took the Beta shift, replacing Hoshi.

Archer pressed the link and leaned toward the speaker. "Archer here. Go ahead."

"Captain, the Dargo has arrived and is about 200 kilometres away. Captain Ranu wishes to speak with you."

"On my way. Signal Captain Ranu and tell him I'll speak with him right away." Archer put his uniform tunic back on and checked his image in the bathroom mirror. Though he hadn't slept for nearly thirty-six hours, he still felt energetic. 'Must be the worry that something will happen to T'Pol that's keeping me on my feet,' he thought as he left his quarters and headed for the turbo-lift.

As soon as he stepped onto the bridge, Archer said to Gomez, "Hail Captain Ranu, put it on screen."

Almost immediately, the heavy-boned face of the Tullan captain appeared; his marble-like eyes were moist and he stumbled at first, trying to speak. Finally, in a voice rough with emotion, he said, "I hardly know how to thank you, Captain Archer, you and your crew. You have saved possibly millions of Tullans and we are grateful. We wish you to join us on the planet for a celebration, to honour your courage and your generosity. Preparations are being made even now for a grand parade. Our supreme leader wants to give you a medal and honorary commission for your service to our planet."

Archer began to wave his hand dismissively; he didn't want any fanfare, he just wanted to get to Tulla and find T'Pol. This grand gesture on the part of Tulla, however, could not be rejected or they would be insulted. It put him into a quandary. At warp speed he could get to Tulla in about two hours but each minute of delay allowed T'Pol's condition to deteriorate further.

"Captain Ranu, I assure you, we don't need any thanks or medals. The fact that your planet is safe is thanks enough for us. However, you can do me a favour. You can remain here and continue to bombard the fragments of the comet, make them smaller and less harmful. Many of these meteorites will strike your planet and could cause some serious damage and injuries. I must continue with my own mission."

Archer hoped he sounded convincing, and that he had not insulted the Tullan captain. A disappointed look crossed Ranu's face then he seemed to smile.

"Of course, Captain Archer. We have no wish to delay you further. I had not thought that you had other missions before you generously stopped to help us. Perhaps on your return journey, you may have the time to come down to Tulla and allow us to fete you properly as heroes deserve." With that, he struck his chest forcefully and bowed. His image disappeared from the screen, replaced by the star field.

Archer breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure if he had caused some bad feeling in the other captain or if Ranu was just being a good sport about his rejection of the celebration.

"Mr. Soames, set a course for Tulla, warp four."

Soames, who was Mayweather's alternate on the Beta shift, looked up, a question in his eyes, then said, "Aye sir."

For an answer to the unspoken question, Archer said, "We have to pick T'Pol up. She should be finished with her exploration by now."

There was no point in trying to get some rest before they arrived at the planet so Archer went to the mess hall for some coffee. He found Phlox sitting alone at a table. After filling his cup, he joined the doctor who waved him to a chair.

The doctor seemed disconsolate as he toyed with his cup. Archer sipped his black coffee then, after studying Phlox for a few more seconds, asked, "Is something bothering you, Doc?"

Phlox kept his eyes on his cup, and did not answer for a long while. Finally, in a carefully restrained tone, he said, "I would have thought we would have retrieved Sub-commander T'Pol by now. Instead, we have been hanging around plinking at comet fragments like children in a shooting gallery." When he looked at Archer, his eyes were angry. "I would think the Sub-commander's life is more important than breaking up rocks!"

Archer recoiled a little from the doctor's anger. He was used to the affable, even-tempered man of healing, but it seemed that Phlox's feelings for T'Pol ran deeper than Archer thought. He set his cup down and said, "I had to be sure no large pieces hit Tulla. It's a small planet and even a meteorite the size of the shuttle could do serious damage in a populated area. And I had to wait for Captain Ranu so he could take over breaking the rest of the comets up. Now we're headed to Tulla at warp speed. T'Pol wouldn't have been there very long as the shuttles only have impulse power." He reached across and patted Phlox's arm. "I'm as worried about her as you are, but I'm also trying to keep her condition a secret, as she would want me to. You have your code of confidence, Doc, but so have I."

Phlox nodded and smiled grimly. "I know, Captain. I just wish she was here so I could monitor her after she takes the serum. I feel quite helpless, and it isn't a good feeling."

Archer finished his coffee and stood up. "I'll find her, Doc, and I'll bring her back safely. You have my word on that."

As he returned to the bridge, Archer wished he felt as confident as he sounded. She could be anywhere on the planet. He strode to the helmsman and asked, "What is our current position, Mr. Soames?"

Soames was another spit and polish Brit, like Reed, and he spoke up smartly. "We'll be in orbit range in half an hour, sir. Our current position is ..." and he rattled off a list of co-ordinates that Archer hardly heard. Another half-hour before he could even get started on his search.

"Ensign Gomez, call Mr. Tucker to the bridge. And signal Mr. Mayweather to meet me in the shuttle bay."

"Aye sir," Gomez said. Archer didn't miss the look that passed between the communications officer and the helmsman. They were mystified by his behaviour. 'Well,' he thought, 'let them be. I don't have to explain all my actions to the crew.'

* * *

T'Pol stopped walking, barely able to breathe in the intense, cloying heat. Vulcan was a hot planet but it was dry, not like this place. She unfastened her uniform and peeled it off, stuffing it into her back pack. All she wore was her top and briefs and even that seemed too much. They were plastered to her skin with sweat.

The small effort had taxed her strength and she stood for several minutes, bent over, supporting her weight with her hands on her knees. With a few gulps of water, she pulled herself up straight and resumed walking.

So far, she had not detected any other large life-forms. Above in the green, leafy canopy, she heard rustlings and chirpings, and occasionally saw small featherless creatures flitting from branch to branch. There seemed to be no insects or even reptiles that one would expect to find in this jungle-like environment. The jungle was just this all-encompassing greenness, this moist sweltering enclosure of succulent plant life growing rankly in the shimmering, steaming heat.

T'Pol knew she wouldn't last much longer as she halted again, only about a kilometre from her last rest. Her heart was racing dangerously fast; the increasing chatter in her brain was maddening. Most maddening of all were the images that kept playing in her mind's eyeâ€”sensuous, voluptuous images of herself mating with Archer, his hands moving over her body rhythmically, bringing her to the brink of pleasure, then stopping, the act replaying again and again until she thought she could not stand it any longer. Leaning against a trunk for support, she felt herself drifting into darkness as she slid toward the ground and thought, 'Finally, it will end.'

* * *

"The homing beacon on the shuttle is still activated, Captain," Mayweather said. Archer just nodded; he had hardly spoken since they had launched the second shuttle from Enterprise. "It shouldn't be hard to find it," the helmsman added.

Archer was hardly reassured. Finding the shuttle was not the problem; finding T'Pol was. After several more conversational gambits, Mayweather lapsed into silence, for which Archer was grateful. He didn't feel like chatting on the hour-long trip to the planet's surface, being too engrossed in his own guilt-ridden thoughts for polite conversation. Would it have killed him to do what she needed from him? Why did he have to project his own human mores and values onto an alien culture? Would this be the way he dealt with all new civilisations he met in space? With these gloomy reflections, Archer scarcely noticed the lovely little blue-green planet they were approaching. It was Earth-like but much smaller.

The shuttle broke through the planet's atmosphere and, following the homing beacon, made a trajectory toward a wide belt of greenery below. Other parts of the planet seemed populated but this area was either uninhabited or uninhabitable. They skimmed low over the tree tops as Mayweather corrected the course, skilfully manoeuvring the craft to a small clearing.

"There it is!" Mayweather exclaimed. "Should I set down beside it, sir?"

"Scan for life-forms, Travis." Though he knew it was useless to look for T'Pol near the shuttle, he needed to be sure she was not still inside.

"No one is near the shuttle, Captain."

"Use the shuttle as the centre and start scanning in a wide arc. She can't be too far away; there hasn't been time. I estimate she would only have touched down a couple of hours ago." Archer took the controls while Mayweather watched the monitor. The captain turned the craft and swept in a radius around the shuttle, his stomach tight as he waited for Travis to detect her bio-sign. A glance at the young ensign received a negative and Archer widened his search pattern to a two-kilometre radius. Still nothing. Archer was getting more tense by the minute. Surely, she could not have travelled far in that dense jungle and in the intense heat. Archer checked the instruments for the ambient temperature on the surfaceâ€”over 30 Celsius with a humidity of ninety percent.

At five kilometres radius, Archer was beginning to wonder if the scanner was working properly. They couldn't have missed her somehow, could they? "Travis, do you detect any type of life-forms down there?"

The helmsman jumped, startled by the sudden break in the tense silence. He looked at Archer and replied, "Yes, sir. There are many small creatures in the canopy and on the ground, just no sign of Sub-commander T'Pol yet."

Archer began to widen the search area once more when Mayweather exclaimed, "There she is! I have her, sir!"

Sudden hope flared in Archer as he leaned toward the scanner monitor. "What direction is she moving in?"

Mayweather's face looked worried as he said, "She isn't moving, sir."

Archer sagged back against his seat, expelling "Oh God" as he gripped the controls. An image rose in his mind of T'Pol lying alone in that expanse of jungle, waiting for death. The thought cut through him like a knife, knocking the breath out of him like a gut punch.

"She's still alive, sir. Her bio-sign is quite strong," Mayweather said in a hopeful tone as if to reassure Archer.

"Take the controls, Travis. There isn't any space to set the shuttle down so I'll have to lower to the surface by rope. Hover over the tree tops and find an open space near her location." Archer left his seat and went into the back of the shuttle. After strapping on his back pack, he cinched himself into a climbing harness then attached the rope by a carabiner to the loops.

"Ready when you are, Travis. Open the hatch and lower away."

* * *

Archer aimed the scanner in the general direction of T'Pol's bio-sign and though the signal was quite strong, he couldn't see her in the dense foliage. As he started forward, he heard a rustling sound then T'Pol appeared about five metres ahead, staggering to her feet. She had been lying down and had been hidden by some large leaves.

He stopped in his tracks at her wild appearance and his breath caught in his throat. Strangely, he thought of the woodland girl in the novel Green Mansions. In this untamed wilderness, she seemed like a primitive jungle creature, the dark eyes staring at him with the terror of a frightened animal. Clad as she was in only her top and briefs she looked primal and savage; her golden skin shone in the filtered light from the green canopy and she was covered in dirt and scratches. A creature of the jungle, now in her element, he thought.

Archer moistened his mouth, too much in awe to speak. He felt he had travelled back millennia in time and he was seeing the primal Vulcan, before it was submerged under the strict discipline of Surak's philosophy. Gone was the veneer of aloof, cool logic, replaced by the fierce need to survive that he could see in her eyes. A little nervously, his finger twitched toward the phase pistol on his hip. She saw the move and raised her own, aiming it at him with trembling hands. It became frighteningly obvious to Archer that she was not in control. He moved his hand back from his pistol then raised both hands with deliberate slowness.

"I'm here to help you, T'Pol," he said in a measured tone. He did not want to startle her into shooting at him as she seemed ready to do.

"Stay away!" she snarled. "Go back! You are in danger." Her eyes moved slightly above him then returned to focus on him.

He advanced a step, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, acutely aware of her quivering finger on the trigger of the phase pistol.

"T'Pol, I have the serum in my pack. It will end the pon farr. Let me come closer." Archer started to move forward but she shouted something in Vulcan which halted him. It sounded like a warning.

He tried to smile though his face felt frozen. This was not T'Pol but some possessed being and he felt ill-equipped to cope with her. She seemed unable to understand that he was there to help. Throwing caution aside, he took another step.

Suddenly, she squeezed the trigger and a blinding flash erupted from the pistol. Archer threw himself to one side and landed hard on the ground. A second later, a huge green two-headed snake fell beside him, still writhing and smouldering. A vehement curse exploded from him as he rolled away from it, thoroughly shaken.

He swallowed hard as he scrambled to his feet. Shaking his head, he smiled, curbing an illogical urge to laugh. Archer glanced at the snake, now still, and estimated it was over ten feet long. Venomous or a constrictor, he couldn't tell but it looked deadly enough. He shivered from his close call. In an incredulous tone, he said, "You've just saved my life, T'Pol."

T'Pol remained as she was, still watching him warily. In the next instant, she sprang forward with cat-like agility, and took him to the ground with a bone-jarring slam. "Now you can save mine," she hissed, her face very close. "I warned you to stay away." She shook her head as if to clear it while she held him pinned to the ground. "You're not even real, just another hallucination to torment me."

"I am real, T'Pol. I'm here because you need me." Archer pressed his hands against her shoulders to try to gently push her off him. The serum was in the back pack underneath him and he couldn't get to it. With a quick motion, he threw her off, then quickly grabbed both of her arms, pressing her down with his own weight. "Let me give you the serum," he urged, beginning to labour for breath. The exertion of holding her was taxing his strength as she writhed under him trying to get free. Her sensuous movements were creating sexual signals in  
his own body. He forced himself to concentrate on giving her the serum. "You'll be all right once I give you the hypospray."

"I don't want the hypospray," she panted. With what seemed little effort she moved her arms free of his restraint to clasp his neck and pulled his head closer. "You know what I want," she purred in his ear.

He couldn't resist her strength as she pulled his face close then kissed him with a mind-numbing explosion of sensationsâ€”the feel of her soft lips, her lithe body moving rhythmically under him, her hand sliding under his shirt, caressing his back. A shockwave of passion raced through his body and he groaned with pleasure. "T'Pol," he whispered as he drew back to look at her. Her eyes were languorous with passion, with a naked hunger.

The still-rational part of his mind remembered the serum and he fumbled into the pack searching for it even as she pushed his shirt up and began to kiss his chest. His hands were trembling when he finally found the hypospray and managed to pull it out.

She pulled him back into a crushing kiss that sent his senses skyrocketing. "Now, Jonathan," she breathed into his ear. "Do not deny us what we both want." When she kissed him again, he felt he was drowning, lost. He held the hypospray against her bare neck, indecisively poised while he revelled in the sensations she was creating.

* * *

Mayweather paced in front of the shuttle, stopping now and then when he heard a sound. With the phase pistol in his hand, he scanned the dense jungle for any sign of something coming toward him. His nerves were jumping from being alone on this alien planet; he had grown up in space and this environment was totally foreign and frightening to him with all the hidden things that could be lurking in the green depths.

A loud rustling from among the trees made him almost yelp with fear. He gripped the pistol and positioned himself behind the shuttle, waiting tensely for whatever it was. From the sound, it was large.

He caught sight of the captain's white t-shirt as it flashed among the greenery. Quickly, he holstered the pistol and hurried forward, then stopped, uttering a gasp. When he came fully into view, Travis saw that Archer was half-carrying the sub-commander. She seemed unconscious. Her arm was draped around his shoulder and he was holding her around the waist. All she had on was her underclothes. Both were covered in dirt and twigs and sweat.

The captain staggered forward, labouring for breath. "Help me with her, Travis," he gasped, as the helmsman came up to them. "She passed out about two kilometres back and I've been carrying her ever since."

Mayweather wasn't sure about touching her. It almost seemed like a violation, especially the way she was uncovered with so much of her body revealed. He tried not to look too closely but she had a lovely body. He couldn't help but stare. Awkwardly, he reached around her waist to take some of her weight and was surprised by how heavy she seemed. How did Archer ever get this far carrying her in such intense heat? His admiration for the captain went up a few notches.

Together they struggled her limp body to the shuttle and set her down gently on the soft grass. Archer dropped beside her, his chest heaving with loud gasps. Mayweather quickly went to the shuttle and pulled out the fruit juice that contained electrolytes. The captain had obviously lost a lot of water sweating and needed some salts too.

Archer took the drink gratefully and swallowed it in almost one long gulp. As he leaned against the shuttle, his breathing began to slow to normal. Eventually, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Help me get her inside the shuttle that she came in. I'll pilot that one and you can handle the other one."

Mayweather bent and with Archer's help, lifted the unconscious Vulcan and placed her carefully on the rear seat of the shuttle. Archer clipped the safety harness over her and she lolled against the cabin wall.

"What's wrong with the sub-commander, Captain?" Mayweather asked as he stared at her, lying limp and asleep in the shuttle. She looked almost ...vulnerable.

"Heat prostration. The sooner we get her to sickbay, the better," Archer said brusquely.

Suddenly, the captain clapped Mayweather on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help, Travis." He paused, studying Travis for several seconds, then added, "I can't order you to do this, but I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything about this to anyone ...what you saw, I mean. I have my reasons."

"Of course not, sir. You have my word on it." He watched Archer climb into the shuttle and prepare to take off. The captain turned to check on T'Pol, then closed the hatch and turned on the engine.

Travis was shaken and confused. What did he see? The captain and sub-commander, neither in full uniform, both dirty and sweaty as if they had been rolling around. A shocking thought hit him as he turned to climb into his shuttle. Of course not, it was impossible! And she was unconscious so that ruled out what he had been thinking. Just heat stroke, nothing sexy, just heat stroke, he repeated to himself as he fired up the shuttle engines and did a quick preflight. So of course, there was nothing to tell anyone, not even Hoshi who would undoubtedly try to pump him for information as soon as he got back. He laughed to himself, enjoying the thought of letting her think she had a chance to winkle anything out of him. He had given his word. And there was nothing to tell anyway. Was there?

* * *

Epilogue

A light flashed on his eyelids and Archer pried his eyes open; they felt gritty and heavy from lack of sleep. The soft blue light of the decon was comforting. Dr. Phlox's smiling face beamed down on him as Archer lay on the bench.

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain. Just checking. You and T'Pol picked up some alien microbes from the jungle on Tulla. Jungles are great places to find strange parasites and microorganisms." He grinned, then added, "I wanted to be sure they were defunct before I let you out of decontamination." He read the smaller scanner in his hand and declared, "Clean bill of health! You can leave any time."

Archer swung his legs off the bench to sit up, rubbing his eyes. "I feel like I haven't slept for days."

"That's because you haven't. I'd advise you to go to your quarters and get a good long rest. We can't have our captain breaking down under the strain of command." Phlox chuckled as he turned off the scanner and dropped it into his lab coat pocket. He sat down on the bench. His eyes became more serious as he regarded Archer so closely that Archer felt like a creature in Phlox's medical menagerie.

"Captain Archer, you weren't in any condition to talk before, but I am anxious to know. Did the serum work?"

"You saw T'Pol? She's practically back to normal, isn't she?" Archer found Phlox's gaze a little too intense to bear and looked away. He was too tired for an interrogation.

"Yes, she seems fine other than being overtired. She's still sleeping in the other half of the decon unit. And of course, I noticed that half of the serum was gone from the hypospray." Phlox sighed as his shoulders sagged. "Of course, I can't publish my formula in any medical journal. That would violate my patient's confidentiality and reveal the source of the information I used for the serum. Dr. Yuris is having a hard enough time without giving away that fact that he supplied Vulcan secrets to a non-Vulcan. So, I guess I'll have to celebrate my success by myself."

Archer patted Phlox on the shoulder. "Meet me in the mess hall in half an hour. I'll buy you a drink and we can celebrate together. It was an amazing thing you did, Doc, and I'm sure when T'Pol wakes up, she'll be grateful."

Phlox merely raised his eyebrows at the suggestion of her gratitude then got up. "Your clothes have been cleaned and decontaminated, Captain, as have the Sub-commander's. They're on the far bench. I'll hold you to that drink, too." He smiled his peculiar all-encompassing smile and left the decon unit.

Archer stretched as he stood up. His shoulders and back were sore from carrying T'Pol. She sure was no lightweight considering her size! As he took off the short hospital robe, he noticed that there were some bruises on his ribs and upper arms, a few scratches too. Good thing the uniform covered him completely, he thought as he pulled on his grey undershirt, then slid into his trousers. After adding his socks and boots, he dropped onto the bench again, wearied by the trivial effort of dressing. 'I'd better get more sleep after that drink with the Doc,' he decided. 'I'm weak as a kitten.'

He pushed off the bench then pulled the curtain aside to see how T'Pol was doing. Lying on her side on the narrow bench, she seemed to be deeply asleep. As he watched the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, he was affected by a sense of peace and comfort in her presence; her breathing was hardly audible in the white noise from the equipment in the room. Drawn by some impulse, he moved closer and crouched beside the bench, studying her face in repose. It was hard to believe that she was the same she-tiger that had attacked him only five or six hours ago. He shook his head at the strange duality of her nature; the coldly logical and unemotional woman he knew and the hidden tiger that crouched within her, ready to spring and ...to kill.

Her cheeks were still lightly smudged with earth and impulsively, he tried to remove the dirt with his finger. She stirred and opened her eyes, alert and alarmed. He envied her ability to awaken so quickly; his wits still seemed dulled by fatigue.

In her eyes was uncertainty as she focussed on him. Her voice was hoarse, raw, hardly audible when she spoke. "Captain...?" The question trailed away as she looked around. "We're in decon. Why?"

He resisted the urge to rub her shoulder reassuringly. She would not welcome the touch now. Instead, he said, "You can leave any time. The Doc has given us both clearance."

She began to sit up then sagged back onto the bench. "I'm so weary. I just want to sleep." Her eyes fluttered closed for a second then opened again, wider and suddenly afraid.

In a half-whisper, she asked, "Why are we in decon together? Did I ...did we?" Moistening her mouth, she swallowed. She seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

Archer leaned toward her, and this time, he did touch her lightly on the arm. She felt very cool through the thin fabric of the hospital robe and he wondered if she was cold. He made his tone light as he said, "Don't you remember?"

T'Pol sighed deeply and shook her head. "It seems the only mercy of pon farr is that I don't remember any of it."

He drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, the sudden tension draining away with it. "What do you remember, T'Pol?"

She paused and her eyes closed; Archer thought she had dropped back to sleep, but then she opened them and replied, "I recall taking the shuttle and sending some data to the Enterprise. After that, it is all blank until this moment." Fixing him with an unwavering stare, she said, "Tell me what happened. I need to know the truth."

"Get some more sleep, T'Pol. You've been through a lot. We'll talk later." As he rose to leave, she gripped his arm.

"That would be illogical. I won't be able to rest until I know what happened."

"I'll give you the quick version. You took the shuttle to Tulla, and Mayweather and I followed you there. Dr. Phlox prepared a serum to counter the pon farr. That's it. Sleep well."

She held onto his sleeve for another few seconds, then dropped her hand, letting him go. With a shiver, she huddled into herself and covered a yawn. "I'm so cold, strange after being so hot. A reaction, I suppose."

Archer strode across the decon unit and went into the lab where he snatched a blanket from one of the bio-beds. Returning, he draped it over her, then with a little chuckle tucked it snugly around her.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mm, much better." She seemed to lose the battle to stay awake and soon her eyelids fluttered closed and she sighed. Within seconds, her breathing was quiet and regular and Archer thought she had fallen asleep. It made him smile, as warmth and affection radiated through him from somewhere near his heart.

Unable to resist, he bent and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, Jonathan," she said sleepily.

"For what?"

"For saving my life."

"It was my pleasure, T'Pol."


End file.
